


Into the Unknown

by Soulbarebones



Series: Rumspringa Ezra [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Amish, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 01:32:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14966234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soulbarebones/pseuds/Soulbarebones
Summary: The moment Ezra realizes he needs to leave the community, and the events that occur leading up to it.





	Into the Unknown

“Enough fooling around!” his father had said in Pennsylvania Dutch. “You're twenty, now. You're a man. You should have a house and a family. Rumspringa is meant to last for a year, at the most. Not for years. This nonsense stops now. You will make your commitment to the church in the spring. You will take a wife and settle down. It's time to grow up.”

Ezra opened his mouth to argue. He had two failed engagements under his belt. The first had been called off by Mary Yoder, his best friend’s sister. They'd been sixteen then and everyone agreed it was for the best. They were young yet, even though Mary joined the church and married John “Barnyard” Miller the following spring, she'd bought Ezra some much needed time. 

He'd milked the broken heart card for awhile, and then he'd woken up in a blanket nest in a haystack with a girl called Margaret Speicher after a party in a neighboring community. He didn't remember any of it, but when she'd come to him, pregnant, he'd done what he thought was the right thing and asked for her hand. 

Margaret miscarried late fall that year, and when Ezra realized how relieved he was, he broke things off himself. Maybe it was terrible of him. Her reputation was in ruins, and even though many Amish women were no longer virgins in their wedding day, few were publicly acknowledged.

Ezra hadn’t walked away scott-free either. Few girls in the community would look at him now, not that he was particularly fussed about that fact. It bothered him more the way the Elders shook their heads when he passed, and the shame he'd brought on his parents. His mother had cried for weeks.

Now though, Ezra’s father raised his hand, effectively shutting him up. “I talked to Hamish Ebersole and he agreed to let you ask for Linda's hand after you're accepted into the Church this spring.”

Linda was twenty-two, an old-maid amongst the blue-bonnetted lillies, and older than Ezra, himself. He blinked as his father outlined the details of the arrangement, a steep, sinking feeling in his gut that culminated with a gulp and a nod. “Ja, Da. I vill do it.”

Except the more the day went on, the more he was convinced that he couldn't go through with it. He had to stop in the middle of the evening milking to wretch behind the barn, and he had to force himself to eat at dinner otherwise, he’d arouse suspicion.

After dinner, he took his hat and coat, mumbling that he'd promised Jacob Yoder that he'd help him repair his tractor. 

Sun setting in the sky, Ezra all but ran across the fields to the barn where Jacob was inevitably waiting for him. When Ezra let himself in, Jacob looked up from the mess of greasy parts he was working on by battery-powered lantern light and smiled. “I got some brews in the loft,” he said with a meaningful, upward flick of his eyes.

Ezra didn't argue where he otherwise might have, and scrambled up the ladder to the darkened landing. Half hidden beneath a flap of old leather and some hay was four beers from a six pack and Jacob's cell phone. 

Jacob had been married this past spring and had no business being in possession of either of these things, but like Ezra, Jacob seemed unwilling to part with the ways of the English. Unlike Ezra, Jacob had no qualms with lying and sneaking around.

Ezra brought down the beers, cracked the tab on one and passed another over, gulping greedily even while lowering the other two to the ground. 

“What's good, Brother Stolzfus?” Jacob asked, wiping his hands on a stained rag before popping open his own can.

“My Da says it's time,” Ezra stared miserably into his beer.

Jacob winced on Ezra's behalf then reached to grip his shoulder. “You knew it couldn't last forever, ja?”

“Ja, I know. But not just The Church. Now he says I got to ask for Old Maid Lindy, too. I don't think I can do it.”

“Lindy!” Jacob hid a laugh behind his hand then shook his head. “Ez, wait, that's actually smart. She not gonna be disappointed with you then, she just gonna be happy to have a husband, she not gonna give you any troubles.”

Whether or not there was any truth in that didn't actually matter. Ezra didn't want to be married. He wasn't ready for children,or a farm of his own. “I don't want to live a lie, Jacob. It's not fair to me and it's not fair to Lindy...”

“Fair...” Jacob sipped his beer loudly. “You and this idea of fair...There's only two choices here. You stay in the community, you play by the rules. Or you leave. And that's it.”

_Or you leave._ Ezra’s eyes watered momentarily but he closed them, took a deep breath, and willed the tears away. When he opened his eyes again, they were clear.

“Maybe you can do it,” Ezra finished his beer and set the can on the floor. “Pretend to be pious when everyone is looking and then hide out here, risking it all...” He shook his head. “I can't. I won't. And I guess that means if I got to leave, then...”

“You can't leave!” Jacob gasped, his eyes growing wide.

“No, you can't leave. You got Martha and the house and a little one on the way. Me, I still got a chance.”

“Don't...” Jacob said, licking his lips and swallowing. “Don't make any rash decisions. You got to think on it.”

“Ja,” Ezra said softly, looking toward the door. He knew they were done talking about it, too many unspoken things passing between them. The prized Amish stoicism kicking in, forcing out other emotions. 

Jacob gulped down his can and tossed it, then wiped his mouth on his upper arm. “Come help me with this...”

It was late when Ezra stole back into his parents house, lit only by the meager light from the waning moon. There was one donut left in the glass cake saver and he took it, leaving the lid off so as not to wake his mother resettling it back in place. In just three bites, he'd polished it off, before he was even midway up the stairs. He tiptoed past his parent's room, past the room his sisters had once shared. Now that his older sister, Anne, and younger sister, Mary, were married, it left only Abigail, age twelve.

Ezra shared his own bedroom with his youngest sibling, Thomas, only eight years old. He was a sound sleeper and didn't even stir when Ezra plopped down on the bed, pulled off his shoes, and left them where they fell on the floor, then crawled, fully clothed, beneath the covers.

Once, there had been four of them in this room: Abram, John, Ezra, and Thomas. Like his sisters, Abram and John were happily married with families of their own. It stood to reason that his parents expected him to follow suit. But Ezra also knew from farming that no matter how much water and sunlight a row of corn, tomatoes, or beans had, there was always a plant or two that was smaller than the rest. The disappointment. The shortcoming.

Ezra was that stunted tomato that refused to bear fruit. The one who could not be coaxed nor forced to act as it should. The one that bloomed as others were being harvested. An outlier. A failure. His parents had lovingly fertilized the soil, cleared the weeds, and tended to him and here he was, refusing to grow. It only made sense that he should be culled before his blight affected the nearby plants. Before he infected Thomas and Abigail.

But when he left...if he left...they would shun him. Act as if he was dead. It would take groveling and extreme penance for him to return, should he chose to do so. The decision to go was not to be taken lightly. And yet...Ezra couldn't seem to stop thinking about it. Days passed, and in his heart, he knew what he had to do.

Saturday morning rolled around and Ezra was practically sick just thinking about the next day. Church day, and it was his brother Abrams turn to host. He'd gone to Abrams house to help him ready the barn and make sure the fields were up to snuff for inspection. His mother and sisters were in the house with his sister-in-law, baking non-stop since cooking on the Sabbath was verboten.

Abram, like their father, spoke only of Ezra's need to finalize his commitment. To accept the ways of their people formally. Ezra quietly stewed in his emotions until after they broke bread for the midday meal. Then, he went home on the pretense of feeding and watering the chickens, and when he was done, went upstairs and began to dig through his dresser drawers.

Ezra stuffed two pairs of jeans and three shirts into his backpack along with a few magazines he'd stockpiled beneath his mattress. He had a wad of cash he'd earned doing miscellaneous jobs and he tucked it into a pair of socks that he zippered in the front pocket for safe keeping.

When he was done packing, Ezra took his bag out to the horsebarn and stashed it inside of the winter buggy, its ski-treads sleek beneath a fine layer of dust. He traced his forefinger through it and sighed. There was a finality to it, a sense that there was no going back, even though there was still time to change his mind. He knew he wouldn't.

As he emerged from the barn, he caught sight of his mother hurrying across the yard. They momentarily locked eyes and then she abruptly turned, heading into the house. Frowning, he took his cell phone from his pocket and fired off a text to Jacob. 

`Can U meet?`

Several minutes passed before Ezra’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he spent the time smoking a hand rolled cigarette out by the pasture, staring out over the fields for what was probably the last time. 

_Ya 20min_

Ezra imagined Jacob in the field, surreptitiously texting back, sparing a glance back toward his house where his pregnant wife washed and ironed his clothes or scrubbed the dishes from lunch, before abandoning his work and sneaking toward the wooded area at the edge of their community. 

There was an old tree house there, lost to the scourge of time but rediscovered by the two of them nearly a decade prior. It had become their secret refuge, a place to get away from the hubub of the community and to occasionally shirk responsibility.

Ezra pitched his cigarette and began to meander his way toward the woods. Deep past the thicket of new growth and underbrush was a clearing, and at the far end was the tree house, wooden planks nailed in a haphazard way along the trunk. He pulled himself up easily and took assessment of the old quarters. A few old blankets gone to mold and some unopened jars of home-canned peaches. It had been almost a year since he'd been here. Since Jacob had married Martha.

The crush and snap of twigs and hasty cursing between ragged breaths told Ezra that Jacob was nearly there. He sat, patiently cross legged while his friend hauled himself up to the platform. 

Ezra wore a grim smile. “You're getting old and fat,” he teased.

“Shut up,” Jacob huffed, falling to his hands and knees, crawling forward. “It's been forever since I did anything besides fix equipment and milk.”

He turned, flopping on his back with his head in Ezra’s lap, and Ezra, to overcome with memories didn’t push him away, but rather began to comb Jacob’s hair softly with his fingers. After a few minutes of silence punctuated only by Jacob’s breaths, he pushed up again, looking at Ezra. “Ez?” he said. “Are we gonna--”

“I'm leaving,” he interrupted, letting his hand fall into his lap as he looked askance, then down. “Tonight.”

“No,” Jacob protested weakly, as if he knew it was no use. “You can't leave me...”

“I have to,” Ezra whispered,but his explanation died on his lips as Jacob's mouth suddenly mashed against his, working up to a maddening frenzy before he did manage to push him away. “Martha...”

“She'll be here when you're gone,” Jacob replied painfully and reached for Ezra again. 

He was right, even if what they were doing was wrong, and Ezra needed the closure of this final act of heresy, but he still couldn't let things go too far, stopping once more when the desperate clutch of fingers became a bruising grip and impatient rutting.

Stomach sour, he left Jacob there, and did his best to ignore the stifled sobs as he walked away, wiping the corners of his kiss-raw mouth and the occasional tear that leaked from the corner of his eyes. Ezra had done his mourning when Jacob got married, but Jacob had gone on believing he could have it all, and reality was just now crashing around him. In the end, this was Ezra's fault. He'd tried to avoid hurting his friend for so long that he'd hurt him more in the process. But that was done, now. An inevitable hardship, and only one of many that would come to pass in the next few hours.

Dinner was a somber affair, more so than usual, but when it was done, he sat in the living room and played with his sister and brother in the waning light until bedtime. It had been ages since he'd done so, and he tried to capture their joy and love as if he could tuck it away for another time when he'd need it.

Then, he'd kissed his mother goodnight and gripped his father's shoulder and gone up to bed, only to lie there and stare at the ceiling as the last of the sunlight faded from the sky. He didn't sleep, couldn't, and when his phone indicated it had fully charged from the camping charger he'd plugged it into, he turned it back on and checked the time.

It was almost midnight and his parents were sure to be fast asleep. Ezra climbed from his bed and put his shoes on, tucked the blankets around Thomas and kissed his forehead, then began to creep down the stairs, climbing up onto the rail and sliding down to avoid the creaky steps in the mid portion.

His mother was sitting at the kitchen table and as Ezra entered the room, he abruptly drew up. She looked weary but it was more than tiredness. Her shoulders carried a similar weight to his own.

“Ezra,” she sighed and shook her head, continuing in German. “Where are you going?”

“Mama, I...” at a loss for words, he hung his head.

“Will you be safe, my boy? Who is going to look after you? Feed you? Love you? Who is going to keep you warm and dry?”

Who was going to do those things for him here?

With a determined set of his jaw, Ezra raised his head. But his mother was not trying to keep him from leaving. She haf his bag, and in the morning, he'd see she'd repacked it and added other things he hadn't considered for himself, as well as some more cash. She offered him a brown bag with fresh baked goods that he could smell through the paper.

Stunned, he simply stood there and fought back his tears. His mother smoothed his hair back, caressed his face, and kissed his cheek before giving him a tight hug. “Will you write?” she whispered as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back.

“Ja,” he nodded, sniffed, then rubbed his nose on his forearm. “Danke, mama.”

“Hush, foolish child.” She pulled back and turned away, wiping her cheeks with her apron as she went to the door, then paused in the frame. “We'll be here, if you come back.”

Ezra nodded again and picked up his bag. If, not when. “Tell Da I'm sorry...”

She shook her head. “Don't be sorry. Just be happy. And be a good boy. A good man, if you can.”

“I will, Mama.”

She nodded again and went through the doorway. He couldn't see her any longer, although he suspected she stood just on the other side. There would be no goodbye. That was too permanent. And so he left, numbed, quiet, in the dead of night. He walked through the front door, down the porch steps, and into the dead of the night. Into the unknown.


End file.
